practitioner with special training in gynecology. He had lived alone for most of the summer seeing patients and living frugally while his wife and children had been visiting his wife’s family in Akhisar, about fifty miles northeast of Smyrna. With news of the Turkish army advances, they returned to Smyrna on Saturday, September 2.
Dr. Hatcherian was forty-six years old. He had deep-set eyes, a narrow sensitive face, and hair that was parted high on the right and closely cropped near his ears. He conveyed an impression of intelligence, caution, and skill. He looked like a doctor.
He had been born in an Armenian village on the Sea of Marmara, studied medicine in Constantinople, and served four years as a captain and medical officer in the Ottoman army during World War I. While he had been away at war, in the Dardanelles and Romania, Armenians in his home village had been deported or massacred, and the village destroyed. After the war, he had moved to Smyrna, which had put him and Elisa not far from Elisa’s family. Dr. Hatcherian was not rich as were some of the Armenian doctors in the city, but he had methodically built his practice and reputation; the National Armenian Hospital in the city had taken him on the staff, a matter of distinction.
Dr. Hatcherian was not an excitable person or prone to exaggerated fears but the nationalist army’s advance toward Smyrna weighed heavily on him. Like nearly every other Armenian family, his had suffered during the deportations of 1915–16. Many of the most prominent Armenians in Smyrna, including other doctors, had already chosen to leave Smyrna. They had packed their belongings and departed with their families on steamships for Constantinople. Now Dr. Hatcherian had to make a decision about leaving or staying. It was not an easy choice. He had forebodings of what might happen if the nationalist army occupied the city, but he also had begun to assemble a practice that promised to give him and his family a comfortable life in Smyrna in the years ahead. He consulted with others about what to do, including a friend at the French consulate who, as a personal friend of the French consul, reassured him that all would be well despite the disorder and anxiety prevalent in the city. This trouble would pass, the man had said. Dr. Hatcherian was cheered by the advice. Nonetheless, evidence of the war’s brutality, moving ever closer to Smyrna, was obvious to him.
“The streets of the city have become completely impassable,” he wrote in his diary. “Along with the refugees, wounded soldiers are filling the city as hundreds arrive at the hospital in trucks. The situation has seriously worsened.”
Dr. Hatcherian continued to see his patients and carried on as normally as possible, calming his wife and children even as he encouraged the family to take precautions.
“Bread and food supplies have diminished. We start to store foodand, at the same time, to pack our valuables into boxes and sacks. Despite these preparations, thousands like me are firmly convinced that the Turks cannot enter Smyrna.”
Despite the confidence displayed in the diary entry, Dr. Hatcherian had not fully persuaded himself that he and his family were safe. He wrestled with the doubt, and at the same time feared an overreaction that would upset the progress he had made in his life and career.
He turned the matter over in his mind during several sleepless nights. Unwilling to make his wife anxious, he recorded his thinking in the diary: “I held the position of a municipal doctor for almost ten years; I have completed four full years in the military and I have official documents at hand confirming my impeccable service. Therefore, I do not wish to lose my enviable position, achieved after three years of steady work in Smyrna, when the danger seems so remote.”
He decided to stay in Smyrna.
CHAPTER 6
Admiral Bristol, American Potentate
I n Constantinople, Rear Admiral Mark Bristol often scheduled his work at
Dr. Hatcherian was forty-six years old. He had deep-set eyes, a narrow sensitive face, and hair that was parted high on the right and closely cropped near his ears. He conveyed an impression of intelligence, caution, and skill. He looked like a doctor.
He had been born in an Armenian village on the Sea of Marmara, studied medicine in Constantinople, and served four years as a captain and medical officer in the Ottoman army during World War I. While he had been away at war, in the Dardanelles and Romania, Armenians in his home village had been deported or massacred, and the village destroyed. After the war, he had moved to Smyrna, which had put him and Elisa not far from Elisa’s family. Dr. Hatcherian was not rich as were some of the Armenian doctors in the city, but he had methodically built his practice and reputation; the National Armenian Hospital in the city had taken him on the staff, a matter of distinction.
Dr. Hatcherian was not an excitable person or prone to exaggerated fears but the nationalist army’s advance toward Smyrna weighed heavily on him. Like nearly every other Armenian family, his had suffered during the deportations of 1915–16. Many of the most prominent Armenians in Smyrna, including other doctors, had already chosen to leave Smyrna. They had packed their belongings and departed with their families on steamships for Constantinople. Now Dr. Hatcherian had to make a decision about leaving or staying. It was not an easy choice. He had forebodings of what might happen if the nationalist army occupied the city, but he also had begun to assemble a practice that promised to give him and his family a comfortable life in Smyrna in the years ahead. He consulted with others about what to do, including a friend at the French consulate who, as a personal friend of the French consul, reassured him that all would be well despite the disorder and anxiety prevalent in the city. This trouble would pass, the man had said. Dr. Hatcherian was cheered by the advice. Nonetheless, evidence of the war’s brutality, moving ever closer to Smyrna, was obvious to him.
“The streets of the city have become completely impassable,” he wrote in his diary. “Along with the refugees, wounded soldiers are filling the city as hundreds arrive at the hospital in trucks. The situation has seriously worsened.”
Dr. Hatcherian continued to see his patients and carried on as normally as possible, calming his wife and children even as he encouraged the family to take precautions.
“Bread and food supplies have diminished. We start to store foodand, at the same time, to pack our valuables into boxes and sacks. Despite these preparations, thousands like me are firmly convinced that the Turks cannot enter Smyrna.”
Despite the confidence displayed in the diary entry, Dr. Hatcherian had not fully persuaded himself that he and his family were safe. He wrestled with the doubt, and at the same time feared an overreaction that would upset the progress he had made in his life and career.
He turned the matter over in his mind during several sleepless nights. Unwilling to make his wife anxious, he recorded his thinking in the diary: “I held the position of a municipal doctor for almost ten years; I have completed four full years in the military and I have official documents at hand confirming my impeccable service. Therefore, I do not wish to lose my enviable position, achieved after three years of steady work in Smyrna, when the danger seems so remote.”
He decided to stay in Smyrna.
CHAPTER 6
Admiral Bristol, American Potentate
I n Constantinople, Rear Admiral Mark Bristol often scheduled his work at
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